


Negligence and Necessity

by JRC



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragon Age Fusion, Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/F, F/M, Gay Male Character, M/M, Not Dragon Age: Inquisition Compliant, Pirates, Prostitution, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 10:44:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10638234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JRC/pseuds/JRC
Summary: A templar who believes he's neglected his duty. A boy who needs nothing more than a little love. Blah blah fate, blah blah chance encounters, only not really, Captain Isabela is a fantastic matchmaker, thank you very much. Credit given where credit is due. If only men weren't so Maker-damned OBLIVIOUS.





	

A dark alley, and two people pressed up against one of the grimy walls, one standing and one kneeling. Not an uncommon sight in Llomerryn. The standing figure was pumping his hips rapidly, and gripping the head of the kneeling figure with dirt-encrusted fingers, his knuckles white beneath the filth.

Hot liquid spilled into his mouth, and Jim gagged, pulling back abruptly to turn and spit the offending substance out into the gutter. The man, ruddy face contorting with rage, reached down and seized a handful of filthy blond locks, pulling sharply to drag Jim up to his own level. Whimpering, the young man managed to get his feet underneath his bloody knees, so he was at least standing on his own, rather than being held up by his scalp.

“What the fuck was that?” a raspy voice demanded, breath that smelled like rot and old ale wafting over the boy’s face, causing Jim to wince and turn away. His head was jerked back into place with a sharp tug on his hair. “You don’ get to spit, boy,” the man growled, collecting his own spit in his mouth before expelling it—right into Jim’s face. “I thought you said you was hungry. Why didn’t you swallow? Hm?” He punctuated his questions with harsh shakes, which left Jim stumbling to maintain his footing.

“S-Sorry, sir,” the boy hissed, knowing better than to try to dislodge the man’s hand from his hair. “I’ll do better next time, sir,” he promised, blue eyes pleading as they met brown, bloodshot eyes sunken in a baggy, dirt-smeared face.

“No coin,” the man said, after a moment of tense eye contact. “It was a lousy job anyway,” he scoffed, smirking darkly, revealing the fact that several of his teeth were missing.

Shaking his head, the man brought his knee up swiftly into the boy’s crotch, causing him to gasp and double over in pain, tears springing to red-rimmed eyes. With a swift shove, the man sent the boy flying into the opposite gutter, and one twist of his worn boot heel later, he was striding towards the open street, bustling even at this late hour.

Jim curled in on himself, attempting only half-heartedly to will the pain in his groin away. Pain was better than the numbness he was so accustomed to, was it not? He had long since passed hungry. He had even passed starving. Now his stomach simply hurt all the time. Or it had, until he had stopped being able to feel it any longer. Dying here in the gutter wouldn’t be so bad. Would it? It could be worse, Jim reasoned. He could be on fire, or drowning.

“No coin? If the boy did such a lousy job, how come you finished?” A new voice asked, as a distinctly feminine figure stepped into the alley, blocking the man’s exit into the street.

Jim summoned enough energy to lift his head from the vile mixture of booze, piss, and fecal matter to see who had intervened. Far be it from him to demand coin from a man twice his age—and weight—but if someone was stepping in to try to help him, unbelievable though it sounded…

“Out of my way, bitch,” the man growled, and Jim watched him reach one filthy hand into the pocket of his coat, likely where he kept a blade of some sort. “It’s no concern of yours.”

“On the contrary,” The woman, still just a silhouette backlit by the lantern hanging from the corner of the alley to Jim’s eyes, countered, reaching for her own dagger, tucked into a belt around her hips. “The boy is mine. The way I see it, he performed you a service. He’s earned his pay. So I hope that hand in your pocket is seeking gold, and not a knife,” She said, cocking her head to one side, a note of suspicion creeping into her rich voice.

“The fuck it is, bitch,” the man spat, drawing a rusted dagger from his pocket and lurching towards the woman.

Jim gasped and struggled to push himself up into a seated position, fraught with anxiety for the safety of his gallant defender, but he needn’t have worried. No sooner had the man taken a step towards her, the woman kicked out, sending his leg buckling, and the man toppled. Slamming a booted foot down onto his back, she pushed him the rest of the way to the ground, drawing her own dagger, this one not rusted, and bending down to press the blade against the man’s throat. Even from so far back in the alley, the boy could see him tense up.

“Let’s try that again, more politely this time,” the woman said, nothing but cheer evident in her tone this time. “The boy performed a service for you. So where’s his pay?” She asked, cocking her head to one side once more, causing dark, thick locks of hair to tumble over her shoulder, and dangle before her face, obscuring Jim’s view of his savior.

Arms trembling with the effort, Jim managed to hoist himself out of the gutter, and with no small amount of protest from his muscles, shift his legs so that they were folded beneath his thighs. Stars danced before his eyes, and he closed them for a moment, reaching up to wipe the grime and Maker-knew-what-else from his face.

The clatter of metal against the cobblestones drew the boy’s attention, and he looked up, startled to see the man had tossed a handful of silver pieces into the street. Jim’s heart leapt into his throat. Silvers? Not coppers? He might be able to sleep somewhere other than the street, if only for a night. No inn would let him in unless he changed clothes, and that meant buying new clothes. Which meant spending at least two silvers. He was so busy running through the math of what he would have to spend where, he didn’t even realize his rescuer wasn’t done until she spoke again.

“Oh, come now. You can do better than that, can’t you?” She asked, her tone saccharine sweet. “Five silvers? The boy just sucked a cock no whore within fifty miles of here would even touch. Deserves at least a sovereign, if you ask me.”

“No one asked you, though, did they?” the man spat, before Jim heard a choked gasp, and the rustling of fabric. Another clatter of metal on stone told him the man had shelled out several more coins.

Jim’s stomach growled, and he laid a hand over his abdomen, a sudden realization striking him. The woman could just be here to take the man’s coin, and was using him as an excuse. It would be the first time it happened to him, but then, Jim had encountered many firsts since he had begun to live on the streets. It was not at all outside of the realm of very real possibilities. If the woman was going to take the coin, would she really want to leave a witness to her crime?

He could hear the woman’s soft, slow voice continuing to berate the man, but he wasn’t sure whether it was worth it to risk approaching to take the coins, or if he should be grateful he still had his life. The man might not end tonight so lucky.

Swallowing down the bitter taste of dashed hope and stale hunger, Jim turned so that he was resting on his hands and knees, and began to crawl towards the darker exit to the alley, away from the man and woman behind him. He could find another man. There were always other men. A few silvers, a hot meal, fresh clothes… they weren’t worth risking the few dregs of life he had left.

The sound of old boots scuffling, then their owner running off sent Jim into a panic, and he began to crawl faster, leaning towards the more shadowed wall of the alley, praying to the Maker that the woman would merely take the coin and be on her way. He readied himself to beg, just in case. He wouldn’t tell anyone. He pressed his eyes tight shut, so he could at least say he didn’t even know what she looked like. No one would know! If she let him continue on his way.

He was surprised, therefore, to hear her call out to him. “You don’t want the coin, sweetheart?” the woman asked, a note of concern creeping into her tone. False, or genuine? “I mean, I’ll take it, but you rather look like you need it,” She said matter-of-factly.

Jim slowed to a stop. His knees were bruised and bloody anyway, and crawling only exacerbated the injuries. “Please don’t hurt me,” he said, but his throat was parched and dry, and it barely came out louder than a whisper.

The woman sighed, and he could hear her walking, but oddly enough… not towards him. A few steps back, with clean, heeled boots from the sound they made, and then the shadows ahead of him shifted. She had taken the lantern from the corner. A few more steps, towards him, this time, and he tensed to push to his feet and run, but the footsteps stopped. A scratch… metal on stone? Nails on stone?

Jim hesitated a moment before daring to glance back over his shoulder, only to gasp and fall onto his rear, scurrying back away from the woman as she walked towards him. She was holding the lantern from the alley corner, but in her other hand, palm open, she held a small pile of coins.

Black hair, kept out of her face by a bandana, hanging down slightly past her shoulders. Several facial piercings, which was really nothing out of the ordinary, in Llomerryn. She also wore a thick golden collar of a necklace, encrusted with gems, and with what appeared to be sculpted golden serpents curling up from around her shoulders. A white tunic that could hardly be called that, although technically it covered all the appropriate parts. A sash at her waist. Boots that reached up to hug her dark thighs. She looked like a pirate—a successful one, at that.

The woman had paused as Jim scrambled back frantically, and held both her hands up, lantern and coins, offering him a gentle smile. “Hey now, sweet thing. I’m not gonna hurt you,” She stated, her voice much softer now than it had been as she threatened the man earlier. “Just want to give you the coin you earned. Maybe see if I can’t clean up that pretty face of yours,” she offered, tilting her head to one side, hazel eyes scanning him appraisingly.

Jim said nothing, his back pressed up against the filthy alley wall, his hands shaking as they felt around the ground for anything he could use for… anything. No rocks, small or otherwise. Shards of glass, he was careful only to brush over with his fingers. A rotten piece of… wood? He hoped it was wood. Was the woman telling the truth, or did she want to search him for more coin? He hardly looked like the type of whore with coin—not covered in muck and grime like he was.

“What happened to you, hm?” She wondered aloud, her eyes glittering with… was that pity? “You’re all dirty, but you cut such a nice figure. Don’t worry—I don’t want to use you like that man,” She assured him, her expression turning suddenly serious.

The woman stepped forward, and Jim didn’t move, but he kept his eyes locked on her, watching for any sudden movements to indicate he ought to flee. One step, two… three… and she leaned down to set the lantern down on the ground near Jim, but not near enough that if she were to knock it over, it would hit him.

“I’m just going to set this lantern right here, so I can see you. Alright, sweetheart?” the pirate asked, smiling warmly, as she knelt down before him, not quite within arm’s reach.

Jim shifted, ignoring the protest of the muscles in his thighs and legs, and pressed closer to the alley wall. What did she want? No one looked out for whores in Llomerryn. Even in the brothels, the whores were only protected if they were profitable enough to stay.

Red-rimmed eyes followed a dark hand with a light palm as it reached towards him, and the woman deposited the coins onto the cobblestones before him. “There. There you are, precious,” the pirate said softly, pulling her hand back. “Sign of goodwill. Take your coins, you earned them,” She smiled, folding her hands in her lap and waiting for Jim to make the next move.

Hesitantly, the boy reached out and snatched up the coins, clutching them close to his chest, keeping his eyes on the pirate for a moment, before he dared to look down, and see how much it was. Not a single copper coin—they were all silver. From the weight, and how much of his palm they filled, he guessed there were at least a dozen of them.

Jim looked back up at the woman, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. He had never been suspicious before coming to the port city, but living on the streets of Llomerryn was a harsh lesson, one quickly learned or paid for not learning—and dearly. Cracked lips parted, and he spoke only one word, his voice lilting upwards, asking. “Why?”

The pirate cocked her head to one side, grinning a small, sad little grin. “Well, you earned it, didn’t you, poppet?” She asked, reaching up to tuck a flyaway strand of hair back beneath her bandana. “Tell you what. I’d like to buy you dinner and some clean clothes, if you’ll let me, and you can ask me any questions you like while we’re there. If you can prove you’re a clever little thing, as well as a pretty one, I might have a job for you that only involves sucking cock as an optional hobby on the side. How does that sound?”

The boy blinked, his eyes growing wide. Food, clothes, and possibly a job? It sounded too good to be true. It had to be. How could it not be? “Why?” he repeated, his voice softer this time. Maker forbid she changed her mind… Jim wasn’t sure he would be able to handle the despair he would feel if this hope too, was ripped from him.

“Because, sweetheart,” the pirate smiled, pushing to her feet and holding out a hand to help Jim up from the ground after picking up the lantern from the cobblestone beside her. “I’ve seen too many good men and women in just your position rot away because no one offered them just a little help to get them back on their feet.”

Jim eyed the woman’s hand, still wary, even if he didn’t sense any dishonesty in her words… But honestly, what did he have to lose? Here he was, starving in a gutter after sucking a drunken man’s cock. How much worse could it get?

“Alright,” the boy said, after a moment’s consideration. He looked at his hands, covered in dirt and Maker only knows what else, and rubbed them against his pant legs… which were probably just as filthy. Reaching up, he clasped her hand, and with one firm tug, the pirate pulled him to his feet.

“Good man… what shall I call you, sweet thing?” the pirate asked, wrapping an arm easily around Jim’s shoulders, and guiding him gently towards the lamp-lit street.

“Jim,” the boy offered, glancing up at the woman, who was somehow taller than him. This close, she struck a somehow even more imposing figure than she had even when leaning over with a dagger up against the man in the alley’s neck.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Jim,” the pirate grinned, reaching up to hook the lantern back on its hook on the corner, before holding her hand out. Jim realized he was meant to shake it, and he reached up hastily to do so, blinking up at the woman, dumbstruck. “Captain Isabela, at your service. Now, where would you like to go for dinner?”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, hello, hi! Ah, here we are, um, setting off on ANOTHER fanfiction adventure! But I am a college student nearing finals so no promises on updates. I'm also mainly writing this for my gay housemate, who is thrilled with my progress so far. Fingers crossed I can keep it up. Please, please please leave feedback! Any kind is great. Tell me I suck, tell me I'm great, if you like it, if you didn't... I love feedback. And it keeps me writing. Uhm, so, I hope you enjoyed this so far, and I hope you'll continue to enjoy as I keep writing!


End file.
